Here’s to the Fighter Out There

Today has been a really sad day for a lot of people, me included. When I learnt about Robin Williams’ death on the radio on my way to the office, I was stunned. Moreover when the announcer said it was a suspected suicide – and later she added; he was struggling with depression over the years.

I got very emotional and heartbroken about this. Not only because Robin Williams is one of my favorite actors, but the cause of death is very upsetting.

I know too well about depression and what it can do to people. I had been struggling with depression for a few years. Although I am now on prescribed meds and still go regularly to my psychiatrist, it is still not easy.

Some days, I would find myself on the bathroom floors, crying for hours for no apparent reason.
Some days, I would feel normal.
Some days, I couldn’t even bring myself out of bed.

Just last year, I tried to commit suicide. Some say suicide is the most selfish act that one could do. But for those people who have never experienced depression will not understand that for us, it is almost impossible to control our mind when that demon strike us. We just want to end the suffering. We just want the voice inside our heads to stop talking. To stop mocking. To stop telling nasty thing about us. Having a depression is like being in a roller coaster ride that doesn’t stop.

While currently I could function properly — most days, my life still depends on those little pills. I don’t know for how long, but I will try not to think of it and keep going.

For those who are still fighting the same battle as I am, keep fighting. Don’t give up. Conquer the demon and get your life back.

And the most important thing is, you are not alone.

Rest in peace, Robin.


Tick Tock Tick Tock

Yet another restless night. Thoughts are running wild, images starting to flash. One by one they turn into frames. Frame by frame they turn into a movie. A bad movie.

I’ve always thought that one day I can slip out and fly away. But days had turned into weeks, weeks had turned into months, months had turned into years. My heart betrayed me. It refused to listen. I wish I could just rip it off my chest and throw it into the trash.

So here I am, sipping on a cup of tea at 4 AM, still waiting for my wings to grow. And I feel like giving up.

The clock is ticking. I had to quit you.

Road to Recovery: The End of Week Two

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

So, it’s been a bumpy road.

Well, no. It’s been a bumpy road and while I was at it I fell asleep and had a nightmare. Yea, that’s more like it.

My withdrawal syndrome on the first week was merely physical. However, during week two the nasty evil strike me mentally. Paranoia: check, anxiety: check, depression: check, suicidal thoughts: check, severe loneliness: check. What did I miss?

I am however, still alive. I only took one pill from ‘the forbiddens’ because I really couldn’t stand it any longer and was really on the edge of my breakdown.

Now I’m on to my week three. Things are still not getting any easier yet, but I know I’ll survive this as well.

One step at a time, that’s what I keep telling myself — and you should too if you’re fighting your life to be free from drugs (prescribed medication in my case).

One step at a time.

Road to Recovery: A Week Later

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya


After staying off of the forbidden three for a week, now my body is starting its own riot against my will to quit the prescribed medications I’ve been taking for the past 2 years as per my doctor’s recommendation. I am still on Sizoril which I take every two days, but on the days I’m not on Sizoril, severe headache and respiratory problem is something I must endure.

It’s just wow.

I mean, I thought when I can set my mind that I want to be free from those drugs, everything will be easy.

Well, It is not.

My body seems to have its own mind and I’m starting to suffer from withdrawal syndrome. Maybe this is why most people are falling into taking the medications again because they cannot function well during this period of time. I have the same problem. It is really hard to stay focus and productive at the time being.

But I refuse to relapse back into taking those medications. I’ve come this far. Those medications were taking my life away and I really don’t want to re-live that path. I am in the midst of reclaiming my life and my freedom back to where its belong.

And they belong to me.

I guess I’m gonna need a lot of perseverance, endurance, and strength. Oh, and luck as well.

A whole lotta luck.

On the Road to a Hopeful Recovery

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

So I went to my psychiatrist today. She said it is time to reduce my intake whether I like it or not. At first I was taken aback, and shocked. She wasn’t the sweet old lady that I’ve been seeing for the past two years today. I told her — hysterically of course, that I wasn’t ready. But she was fierce. She said those medications are dangerous for long-term use. And what slapped me in the face was when she said, “you will never feel ready if you keep on taking them. You need to fight it. Have some confidence inside yourself that you can be free from those drugs. Aren’t you tired of coming back here? Don’t you want to be drug-free?”

And I was silent.

I do want to be drug-free. After two years on drugs, I can feel that my memory is somehow degrades. it was quite sharp before. Now, it takes time for me to recall the five names of my favorite game — and I’m a hardcore gamer!

So yes, I want to be drug-free. No matter how.

After some drama and negotiation, I was finally able to made my psychiatrist prescribed me the usual dosage and amount of medications (there are four types, and according to her I have to quit three of them entirely). But she told me to get ONLY five capsules each for the forbidden three — so that I don’t feel anxious about not having them, and get all for the one she recommended.

When the prescription was already in my hand and I was heading to the door, I said, “hey doc, actually I can cheat and get all of them now,” with a smirk on my face.

She calmly answered, “yes you can. But this is now a battle between you and yourself. It’s your call.”

And I went to the pharmacy, got myself FIVE capsules each for the forbidden three, and all for the recommended one.

I have to win this battle.

I’m the World’s Greatest Fool

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya

I admit I’ve done a lot of things that hurt you.

To think that you were always tried your best to make me happy and provide intangible things that money can’t buy.

I will never forget those two weeks where you have shown me how amazing you are as a person, while I was there lying helpless in bed from the strong prescribed medication, being heavily depressed and suicidal over someone else. Yes, over someone else. You could’ve just kicked me out and didn’t want to deal with me until I pull myself together again. You could’ve been super angry at me.

But you didn’t. Instead, you took care of me.

Every morning before you went to work, you’d woke up early than usual, cooked breakfast for me, woke me up, fed me, and I went back to sleep again afterwards. On your lunch-break, you’d came home, woke me up again, fed me, and went back to the office. You’ve always went straight home after work because you were afraid I might need to go to the bathroom or something. And you’d fed me again on dinner time.

You did that for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT.

I was sort of paralyzed from the strong medication. I got fourteen days of medical certification from my doctor, bedridden, and was hardly awake. We didn’t chat, we didn’t go out, but you didn’t mind. You were patiently taking care of me. You never complaint — not even once, you never got angry at me.

And I was a total jerk. I was too blind to see that what I need was standing in front of my very eyes. Instead I was always looking for your flaws. I pushed you away, because I had someone else in my mind and heart.

Until reality slaps me in the face. But then, it was all too late. I’ve let you slipped away. And now I’m paying the price. But I guess I deserve it.

I am truly sorry for everything I’ve done. Every. Single. Thing.

Especially for being the world’s greatest fool.

Moving On is Suicidal

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya.

Photo courtesy of Astu Prasidya.

I thought I’ve moved on. For various reasons.

Until last night, I had a dream about this person. This particular person whom I thought I have forgotten. The dream was vivid, horrific, upsetting, and making me sick to the stomache even a few hours later as I’m writing this article. And it brought me to this question. Have I really moved on?

I have read a lot of article on how to let go. I still go to my psychiatrist from time to time. I have been taking my medication regularly — except last night, actually because my doctor asked me to reduce my intake. I bought hypnosis apps — A LOT of them, and listen to it every night until I fall asleep to deal with my messy sub-conscious.

And the most important thing for me is, we never see each other anymore. What else can I do? I’m running out ideas on how to move on.

I even don’t know what moving on means anymore.

It’s probably just a myth.